


Hybrid Children and the Sea

by Mythostopheles (LadeeCam0)



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom
Genre: Deep Ones, Original Character(s), a kinder gentler mythos, innsmouth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadeeCam0/pseuds/Mythostopheles
Summary: A woman is destined to become a Deep One.
Kudos: 3





	1. The Shadow Under Oakland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman meets a Deep One at Jack London Square in Oakland, California.

It was a lazy evening, and I was rolling along the waterfront at Jack London Square. There was plenty of time before the ferry to San Francisco, so I rolled aimlessly, savoring this time alone. It was autumn, and the last gasps of summer were finally retreating into memory where they belonged. Sorry, I’m a Goth. Summer is my least favorite season.

The boardwalk wrapped around a hotel's backside, and the bay came right up to it. The water to the bay side of the boardwalk was deep enough to be opaque, but the water to the shore side was shallow enough to see the rocky bottom. Right about when I was wondering if there was any life to be seen, movement caught me eye. Rolling back and closer to the rail, I peered into the shallows under the hotel.

Yes! There was something there. It moved.

And made eye contact with me.

What the heck?

There it was again! And there was no mistaking it was looking at me, and it moved back, as if trying to get a better look at me.

The creature was somewhat frog-like and human-like at the same time, with a pale underbelly and a scaly back. Raising itself so that it was partially out of the water, but still somewhat under the hotel, it brought a finger of a webbed hand to its mouth, keeping eye contact with me all the while. It was shushing me! It pointed to its eyes, then to me, then to its wrist, and made a vague waving gesture.

Eyes to me, then to a wrist? A wristwatch? Was it saying, "See you later"

The creature mimed looking up with a hand splayed out. Lowering the hand and closing it into a fist underwater, it repeated the gesture from its eyes to me.

Sunset! 

“You want me to come back after sunset?” I asked.

The creature nodded. Had it understood me? My new friend then retreated into the shadows and shallows under the hotel.

I probably had about two hours before the sun would start setting, and about three hours before it would be dark. There really wasn’t any reason for me to rush my evening. And while I usually can’t help but smile on the ferry from the sheer joy of the boat ride, tonight I was grinning so much my face was starting to get tired.

I like just riding the ferry to San Francisco, taking myself on little dates. I was so distracted this time, thinking about who I saw in the shadows under that hotel in Oakland, that I almost forgot about where I was going and what I wanted to do. This was a dinner date with myself. But instead of eating at one of San Francisco’s innumerable restaurants, I was going to have a solo picnic on the very end of Pier 39. My backpack had all I needed for a little meal: a single-serving bottle of White Zinfandel, a mini baguette, and a small hunk of cheese. Okay, and a little package of Ding Dongs. See! I have childlike capriciousness and art in my soul! And on these dates, I usually bring a little notebook and maybe a book to read. Yeah, I’m a Goth and an introvert. 

Thoughts of the creature I saw interfered with staying focused on the book I wanted to read. So I got out the notebook and started journaling about the day so far. In fact, that’s how this whole account got started. Eventually, I got another notebook and started one dedicated to the experiences that came after this chance meeting.

Eventually it was time to roll over to Pier 41 to catch the ferry back to Oakland, though I’d be making a stop at Jack London Square instead of going straight home. I rolled back and forth behind the hotel, trying to spot the creature. But I didn’t want to look like I was casing the hotel, so I rolled a little ways away, pretending to look at the boats in the marina.

“Nice night for a walk,” a bald, statuesque, butch dressed all in black said to me. “Or for a roll, in your case,” she added in obvious reference to my wheelchair. Normally I notice butches right away, but this one crept up so silently. It seemed I was more distracted than I thought.

“I … um … I’m just trying to find somebody,” I stammered. “Are you security?”

They had this thoughtful look and said, “In a way, yeah. But I’m not a rent-a-cop, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“If you’re not a security guard, what are you?” _And more importantly_ , I thought to myself, _why won’t you leave so I can visit my new friend?_

“Let’s just say I’m with a local group that makes sure the unsheltered can sleep here without being disturbed. Now, tell me about who you’re looking for. Maybe I know them.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I was flummoxed. Who was this person, anyway?

“Come on,” the butch said, no longer cajoling. “Either you’re here to visit somebody who sleeps on the boardwalk, you’re looking to sleep on the boardwalk yourself, or you’re up to no good. Which is it?”

“I’m here to see a friend,” I said firmly.

“What’s their name?” the butch asked even more firmly, pausing slightly between each word.

“Kermit,” I said without thinking.

“Oh, honey, don’t let him hear you call him that,” the butch said. “Pick your jaw up, sweetheart. And don’t look so surprised, I know about the fishy friend under the boardwalk. He can’t really speak any human language, but he understands some words and he’ll recognize the sound of ‘Kermit.’ It’s not that he hates being called that, it’s just that or ‘Gollum’ is what most folks call him after they meet him and he’s a little tired of it.”

“I guess ‘Smeagol’ is no good either, right?”

“Nope. Don’t use that one either. Call him Jack.”

“Cuz we’re at Jack London Square?”

“Of course, honey!” Why was it when a strange man said things like “honey” and “sweetheart” it sounded gross, but when a strange woman said the same things they sounded friendly? After a slight pause the butch said, “I’m called Shax out here. That’s the only name I’ll give you. What should I call you? And it’s best if you don’t give me your real name.”

“Uh, Gabby?” It was the first thing that came to mind because I wanted to talk with Jack.

“You wanna talk with him, don’t you?” Shax smiled.

“Yeah. Does Jack get many visitors?” I asked, trying not to sound disappointed. I really hoped that few if any others knew about him.

“Oh, most of the night people here know him,” she explained. “Usually he tries to stay hidden from the day folk. Listen, Gabby: Jack is a Deep One. Not one of the Hybrid Children, but an actual Deep One even if the Pacific Deep Ones are smaller than their Atlantic kin.”

Shax didn’t need to explain all this to me. Being a Hybrid Child myself, I already knew about the Deep Ones. But I didn’t feel like sharing that with her just then. So instead I replied, “I know a little about the Deep Ones. I’ve just never seen one here on the West Coast before.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re in every ocean around the world,” Shax said. “Jack is an extrovert among a species of introverts. If he showed himself to you, he really wants to communicate with you in some way. Just try to keep it as quiet as you can. There’s people sleeping out here and they need all the peace and quiet they can get. And if you take any pictures of Jack or any other Deep Ones do _not_ , under any circumstances at all, post them online or anything like that. G’night.”

She left me and I rolled over to where I saw Jack earlier. That was the tricky part: hanging out on the boardwalk near a really nice waterfront hotel without looking suspicious. Well, suspicious to the capitalists. At first Shax thought I was a possible threat to the unsheltered, but it seemed she wouldn’t bother me so long as I didn’t bother anybody trying to sleep on the boardwalk. I set the brakes on my chair and waited for Jack, trying to keep out of view of the hotel’s windows. Most of them already had their curtains drawn, so there wasn’t much chance of me being seen by anybody there. Just as I was starting to nod off, I heard a splash.

“Jack?”

“Yup,” he croaked.

Releasing the brakes, I rolled as close to the railing as I could just as he climbed up and over onto the boardwalk. With him standing and me in my chair, we were eye-to-eye.

Touching his chest, he said, “Gho’glohk.”

“Go Gloak? Your name is Go Gloak.”

“Gho’glohk,” he repeated.

Touching my chest, I said, “Gabby.”

He touched my hand and said, “Gha’bekk.”

Well, it seemed I had a new name.


	2. Shadows out from Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A teenager learns she is destined to become a Deep One

I was first taught about sexual reproduction about the time my stepmother became pregnant with Alicia. I was three. Nothing really set in at that age. Dad and Mariah just wanted me to know where my sister came from. I wouldn’t really think much about sex until puberty started. They told me about menstruation, and when Dad took me out for lunch and a Talk I figured it was going to be about Boys. 

It wasn’t.

“I want to tell you about Sybil,” he said. I knew that she was my birth mother and that there wasn’t any tension between her and Mariah, but I didn’t know much more than that. “You know she’s … shy.”

“Yeah.” I murmured, holding my breath. I’d never met her, and we didn’t have any pictures of her at home. To say I was curious about the woman who bore me was an understatement.

“Well, there’s a reason for that.”

 _No shit, Sherlock_. I knew better than to say that out loud.

“Language, sweetling”

Well, I _thought_ I didn’t say it out loud.

We parked near Jack London Square and headed toward the boardwalk in silence, giving me some time to try to gather my thoughts. I was thirteen and had never seen my birth mother. Well, I couldn’t remember ever seeing her. I was pissed off and confused about that. Did she love me? Without any memories of her, I felt … what? Curious and confused. I definitely felt that way at the very least. I guess I didn’t have any other emotions about her yet because I didn’t know how she felt about me. I wanted to love her. But how could I when I knew nothing about her?

We took seats on one of those wide lounge chair things near the marina. As Dad was taking our sushi out, I began looking around for the seagulls that I was certain would surround us soon. And that’s exactly what happened. Soon, there were seven of them around us.

“Do you notice how the gulls come near us but don’t try to steal our food?”

“So what?” I muttered. “They’re probably scared of you ’cause you’re so big.” It was clear I was going to be the shortest person in the family. Already Alicia was nearing my height even though she was only ten. “And they chase away all the other birds. They don’t want the competition.” I looked right at one of them and said, “My sushi! Not yours. Heck off!”

The BLEEPing gull closed its eyes, bowed, and walked off a little ways.

“They’re only chasing away land birds,” Dad pointed out, gesturing to the pelican that landed on the boardwalk rail not far from us.

“But the pelican is so much bigger than the gulls!” _Duh, Dad._

“They’re watching over you,” Dad said. “None of them will steal your food, or mine while you’re with me. They respect you.”

“Are you high?”

“No,” he replied. “I would never have edibles when I have to drive anywhere.” I was _not_ expecting that answer, and I was suddenly _very_ curious what kind of edibles he had and where he kept them. “They’ll obey you, to a degree. Try it!”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered. Looking at the gull who walked off, I said, “Come here. I won’t bite.”

It waddled right up to me, sitting down at my feet.

“The heck?” 

“Bobbi, your mother isn’t human.”

“What, she’s a seagull?” I sneered.

“No. She’s a Deep One.”

“Yeah, right.”

Dad handed me a smartphone. It wasn’t the phone he usually uses, and I didn’t know he had a spare. The gallery app was open on the screen and there were pictures of him and Mariah with … a creature. The creature seemed about the same height I am now and was mostly greenish with a pale belly and … breasts. It looked almost like a chibi version of the Amphibian Man from _The Shape of Water_. Yeah, I’d watched that move even though I was probably too young for it. Hey, I couldn’t sleep one night and the DVD was on the shelf. This creature in the picture was cradling a child that looked very human.

“It’s very difficult to find an OB/GYN who’s discreet enough to deliver a baby born of a Deep One and a human,” Dad said.

_Wait … what?_

“Yes, Bobbi: this picture was taken when you were born. That’s Sybil, though her real name is Gho’ssilb. She’s your mother. Mariah was the midwife.”

“So, am I adopted?”

“No,” Dad replied. “Me and Gho’ssilb are your biological parents.”

“You had sex with … never mind! Do _not_ , under _any_ circumstances at all, answer that question!” I was never going to watch _The Shape of Water_ again.

“Swipe through,” Dad suggested. “There are more pictures.”

Oh, boy, was I conflicted. I always wanted to know more about Sybil, about Gho’ssilb. But then I learn that she’s not even human. I swiped through picture after picture. Dad must have had dozens if not hundreds of them. 

“My mom is a frog,” I said because I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“An immortal frog,” Dad corrected me.

I lost it.

“You and Mariah don’t say anything about Mom for years and all of a sudden you dump this on me? Why? So you can say you’ve got evidence I really have met my mother?”

“Mariah and I chose this time because you’ve started menstruating,” Dad said calmly. “Maybe we chose poorly and should have told you sooner. We wanted you to know your true parentage so you’d know that if you ever decide to have children there is the possibility they could end up being Hybrid Children. Like you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your mother’s genes proved dominant,” he explained. “You will eventually transform into a Deep One like her.”

Did I mention I was thirteen? I was thirteen when I learned my dad was a monster BLEEPer and that I was going to become a monster myself.

“Do you ever wonder why you never get cold while swimming?”

“I just assumed it was because I’m fat.”

“You don’t have enough fat to keep you that warm,” Dad said. “It’s more than that.”

“I don’t want to be a monster!” I screamed, not caring who might hear. But when I screamed, the seagulls and the pelican drew closer, rubbing against my legs like cats, as if trying to comfort me.

“Your mother is not a monster,” Dad said softly. “None of the Deep Ones are. Well, no more than humans can be monsters. I think you’ll find monsters in all sentient beings.”

I had the strongest urge to tell him to take his Buddhism and sentient beings and shove ’em, but I was more careful with my thoughts this time.

“Is … Do I like sushi so much ’cause I take after Mom?” I asked in a small voice.

“Maybe? Me and Mariah like it too. Although, we’ve never opened a can of baby clams and downed the whole thing. Alicia likes sushi, too, if it’s deep fried with potatoes.”

I tried to smile at Dad in the most irritated way I could. “Fish and chips is nothing like deep fried sushi.”

“And putting sushi in the air-fryer is not the same as deep-frying it, either.”

“You know about that?” I was going to have to have a talk with Alicia. Dividing my sushi among the seabirds around me, I announced: “I want a burger.”

There was a Nation’s not too far from Jack London, so we just walked. I was quiet the whole time, even while having a burger, which I really wasn’t enjoying. I was craving seafood. Yeah, I could’ve ordered a salmon burger but I was avoiding fish out of spite just then. Heck.

Deep Ones. 

My biological mother was—is?—a Deep One. Dad had pictures. Was this some kind of joke? Could the pictures have been ’shopped? How could any of this be true? I had so many questions and no idea where to start looking for answers.

“She looked small and young,” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Who?” Dad asked. Geez, why were parents so hecking dense?

“Sybill. Gho’ssilb. Mom. She looked so small and young in the pictures.”

“Bobbi, your mother was born in the year 130 CE,” Dad said.

“The _heck?_ ” Okay, I didn’t actually say “heck” this time, but I’m trying to keep this account “clean,” as they say. “That means Mom is … what? I can’t math that fast.”

“One thousand, eight hundred, and thirty-one years older than me,” Dad replied. “Which makes her eighteen hundred and fifty-six years older than you. And please, no more F-bombs in the diner.”

So. Not only was Dad a monster BLEEPer, but Mom was a sea cougar who liked her cubs _much_ younger than herself. Great. My family tree was like those tangled masses of seaweed you’d find washed up on the beach.

As if middle school wasn’t bad enough, I had this to deal with.


End file.
